skez 3d
i don't need a makeup removal
cause my tears washed them all
a cup of coffee and a white paper
were the only thing you left behind
we used to write through the day and night
now i'm writing this with the ghost of you
It starts like this:
"Where is my beginning?"
"Is there an end?"
"Where did the maddness
        come from?"
Does the ghost wail for
  itself?
or for
  others?
Who do you wail for.
There are no answers.
Only questions.
What is your answer?
Now tell me your question.
The end is always nigh.
Especially if you are
        planning for it.
Yes. I spelled madness wrong. Its an artistic decision.
skez Mar 20
at some point in life
being fall in love is much easier
than being fall out of love

sometimes
you don't know how to let go of something
up until the earth forced you to
skez 7d
i could feel the pain running through my body
each parts of my body are aching so badly
but you keep saying those lies beautifully
those unseen tears
how long did you hold them in?
wish we were in the same ocean
so i could take you out from your own sea of tears
I've been reminiscing over pictures
of a time I'm missing
strayed so far away I can't
fathom the difference

I'm not dead, I'm alive

six feet under terra firma
that's a fathomable distance
and I could take it further

an unrestrained mind makes
for a quick learner
not all pain is physical
but we've all felt it

that's our reciprocal

life is about coming and going
ebb and flow
a continuous state of reoccurring

rises and falls
trips and stumbles them all
..
"going backwards and forwards"
until my smooth texture
becomes so very porous
Grace Ann May 31
When I find a word I do not know the
Meaning of
I run it over the ever-changing terrain of
my mouth
repeat it with its jagged motions and soft
slopes until it becomes meaningless and
familiar on its roller costar ride of my
tongue
The supervisor releases its safety bar at
my teeth and the word slowly makes his
way out of the vehicle with wobbling legs
over my lips
I hum in pleasure
A new word is a new mystery
A dessert waiting for its purpose of sweet
indulgence to be discovered beneath that
picture perfect guise
My mouth is a fork scooping it up into my
vocal chords making itself known to my
body in a burst of flavor I have never
known before.
And I am in awe of how the linguist like
chefs craft such masterpieces.
When I find a new word I grab a can of
spray paint and graffiti the closest brick
wall in my mind with its shape.
How incredible it is to bring such beauty
to a blank canvas
I learned cursive in the third grade
And I am thankful that these human
hands have the ability to scribe new
vocabulary in more form than one.
To see its beauty in a different font.

    --I failed out of college as an English Major
I started college at the age of 16 after graduation high school early. I had said since I was seven that I was going to be a high school English teacher one day. It's funny how things don't always work out the way you thought they would.
A W May 31
Dopey girls with lousy guys, drives me crazy
Maybe you shouldn't feel too sorry.

Old Sally, so damn good-looking but a pain in the ass.
                 "Oh, darling, I love you."
                 "You're probably the only reason I'm in New York right now"
I told her I loved her; it was a lie.
    felt like five hundred thousand years, looking at all the phonies.
Ivey League guys with snobby voices,
a witty bunch of actors drinking their tea
and rubbernecks stand around to watch.
    I was a goddamn wolf, just wondering for intellectual conversation.
                 Someone, Anyone!
    Just give old Caulfield the time to spoil your evening
                 because he's not sorry at all.
"A small project I did for the Catcher in the Rye where we were to make poems with words from chapters 17-19. They are suppose to be about his relationship with Sally or the feelings he has about her. Enjoy!
SoVi May 25
I felt the fear
Of the world by falling
From my foot burning
My mother on the floor
Her shattered chest
Wanting to breathe
Running in the house
I wanted to reach the door
But I burned my hand
The figure of Christ
Saved around my neck
Burning my skin
Dragging on the floor
Extending my arms
Looking at the flames's light
Against the shadow of the cross



© Sofia Villagrana 2018
Poem for Sombra de mi Cruz
Jenna B May 23
I have always been the clay
Always.
When my parents moved me from my Italian home
To Hamilton, Canada

I was the clay
I learned English
Decorated a new bedroom
Made new friends
Dressed like I was born here
I became Canadian
Without a complaint

I was the clay
When my Canadian boyfriend
Fed me Canadian food
I ate it
When he wanted me to go to the bar
With him and his friends
I went
When he wanted to watch football
Which isn’t actually football
I watched too
When he started listening to country music
I learnt all the lyrics

I was the clay
When my parents had a baby
I changed diapers
Played ball with her in the yard
Was a good babysitter
Went to the playground
Played peek-a-boo
Read children books to her in English

I was the clay
When my boyfriend wanted to take a break
I said okay
When he wanted to get back together
A month later
I said okay
When he said we should move to Edmonton
I said okay
When he asked me to make Canadian food for him
I learnt for him
When he blamed me for everything
I nodded and said sorry
When I found him in bed with another girl

I became a bird
I was not the clay
I grew feathers
Colourful and long
Then I flew
And I don’t ever plan on landing
i am sad

I AM CONSUMED WITH GRIEF

i am angry

I AM BURNING IN A FLAME OF RESENTMENT

i am happy

MY HEART FLUTTERS IN THE CLOUDS, LIGHT AND WONDROUS

i am fake

MY LIES WILL WRAP YOU UP LIKE A SUSHI ROLL

i am weird

BULLSHIT RUNS IN MY VEINS RIGHT NEXT TO THE BLOOD

i am still talking

WHY DID YOU READ THIS?
english teachers, you taught me write

SEE WHAT I DID THERE? I AM A PUN MASTER

not really

I JUST LIKE TO THINK SO
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